Frosting
My Dear We Are A Sink
my head is a basin for the thoughtless gestures and statements that you leak
and then the lines collide with your teeth
through my ears it is drained
into my brain
where stagnant pools tend to form
through the crude faucet
that is your mouth
you effictively establish all of my doubts
my dear we are a sink and it all goes downward
From Letras Mania